As Time Goes By
by NeverIsTheEternal
Summary: "It's still the same old story, a fight for love and glory, a case of do or die. The world will always welcome lovers as time goes by" - Herman Hupfeld. This is a continuation of the novel with light 2004 movie influences dedicated to RachelMargaret because she's awesome. I do not own the lyrics to As Time Goes By or the world and characters of Elizabeth Gaskell.
1. Margaret

**Just a heads up, I've italicized backstory for the first few chapters from the points of view of Margaret Hale, John Thornton, and Mrs. Thornton. I would also like to take a moment to thank the readers and reviews of my last two stories, A Friend in Sorrow and Gentle Violence, Delicious Silence (especially the lovely RachelMargaret who is simply inspiring!). I love reviews and critique, so if you have a free second, please tell me what you think. As always, I do not own the characters or world created by Elizabeth Gaskell.**

This day and age we're living in  
Gives cause for apprehension  
With speed and new invention  
And things like fourth dimension.

Yet we get a trifle weary  
With Mr. Einstein's theory.  
So we must get down to earth at times  
Relax relieve the tension

Herman Hupfeld

Margaret had always enjoyed sitting by the window on trains watching the landscape change from rolling fields to forests, observing the different styles of buildings in village or town. Sometimes she could look away for only a moment and in the blink of an eye the view outside would be so drastically different from the moment before that it took her breath away. Life was like that. A moment could change everything. Until two years ago, the only time her life was ever disrupted was when she went to live with her aunt in London at the age of nine. The next eight years of life were so stable and predictable, with so few cares, that she continued to view the world with a child's eyes long after many her age had already become acquainted with harsh realities and tragic losses. After Edith married and she had returned home to her parents, so much had changed and she had been forced to change with it. So much suffering, so much loss; such profound grief but through it all, she learned to value the beauty of each moment for when she looked again, it might be gone.

The past two and a half years had been so full of goodbyes that, for a time, Margaret could not be induced to leave the house on Harley Street in London where she returned to live with her aunt after the death of her father. Her days were spent quietly reminiscing the happy times with her parents, Bessy Higgins and Mr. Bell. She had loved them all dearly and their deaths had overwhelmed her with seeming unending grief; but the final blow had been leaving Milton. Her life had been so full there, learning a new culture, finding pleasure in intellectual discourse, and while the cares were great, there was also an unexpected satisfaction in working hard and being useful. She wasn't aware of how dear the place had become until she was no longer there for, in contrast, her life at Harley Street was idle and useless. She felt empty – drained- and there was only one person left in the world whom the thought of was like a warm spring rain after a long winter of the soul. As much as her aunt and cousin fussed over and petted her, it was John Thornton whom her broken heart cried out for during this time, especially at night when no one could witness to her tearful prayers that God would help her find a way to seek his forgiveness.

No one had known of this grief except Mr. Bell, and he took the secret to the grave. Having someone know her heart was a comfort and finding that small relief aided her perspective. She began to find strength in the knowledge that Frederick was safely in Spain, married, starting a family of his own. Nicholas would occasionally send her a letter which would lift her spirits for days, especially if they contained news of his master and the news that Mr. Thornton had started a scheme to provide nourishing meals to his hands had delighted her even as the knowledge of how grossly she had misjudged the man tormented her. Edith had two beautiful children that were a glorious distraction even when they were willful and cross. Finally, Mr. Bell had provided abundantly for her and while she would rather have the man on earth than the wealth he left behind, he had also left behind a way for her to make a life for herself, and unexpectedly, a way for her to resolve things with Mr. Thornton. That resolution turned into the most wonderful moment of her life followed by many more.

She was finally going home.

It had been difficult to leave Helstone, nearly impossible to leave Milton for all she had wished to be far away from it at the time of her father's passing. She had learned to love that smokey, busy, rough town and its Darkshire people with their Darkshire independence, her Darkshire husband sitting across from her with his head leaned back, eyes closed. His long dark eyelashes resting on his cheek and a relaxed, peaceful expression on his usually stern mouth that was so quick to express enjoyment in even the smallest pleasures life presented to him. Her eyes rested on him fondly; the sight of his repose, long legs stretched across the isle between them, relaxed her.

He seemed aware that she watched him for he suddenly spoke. "What are you thinking of so seriously over there?"

Gazing outside once more, she replied, "As much as I enjoy my time with Edith, Aunt Shaw, and the children, I've never left London with a single backward glance. For all that I lived there for nine years, I was always leaving it to go home." His eyes fluttered open and he lifted his head, penetrating eyes staring sharply at her face, waiting for her to finish, a tight feeling of dread in his chest. She leaned her head against the glass and closed her eyes as a wistful smile turned the corner of her mouth. "This time is no different and I feel such a profound relief to be returning to Milton, unlike anything I ever felt on returning to Helstone."

"Do you mean that, Margaret?" He asked intently. "Do you truly feel that Milton is your home?"

"I spent a happy childhood in Helstone, an idle youth in London. Neither of those places belong to me now for I am neither a child nor a youth. I grew into a woman there; found strength and courage – learned how to live. Learned how to love. I've missed it more than words can express. For all that I have lost there, it has given me every hope. Every dream for my future. In its smokey air is the Darkshire spirit. I have breathed it in and now it's in my blood."

She raised her head from the cool glass to find his eyes searching her face before he suddenly moved to sit beside her. Taking her small hands in his, he pressed his lips to her fingers. "I had feared..."

"That I would be unhappy there?" she said when it became obvious he could not go on.

"Yes," he gasped, leaning his forehead against hers. "You experienced so much sorrow that I believed it was all you took away of your time there."

"It may have been," she agreed sadly, "at the time; but no matter what I took from there, I left my heart behind. I have been incomplete - until you arrived one evening at a dinner party and brought my heart with you. It's wiser than I am and I will follow where it wishes. It cannot be wrong for it led me to you."

She tilted her head up until the tips of their noses met and gently nuzzled him. The comfortable silence of moments before once again stole over them, exhausted as they were by the day's events and lulled into complacency by the rhythmic beat of the train moving inexorably along its marked path. Memories dominated her thoughts as her husband shifted to tuck her against his side with his arm around her, resting her head against his shoulder, nestling his face into her soft hair.

_It was only five weeks ago that she sat on the edge of her bed in the house at Harley Street staring out the window, hiding from her cousin Edith's graceful hysterics and her Aunt Shaw's stern disapproval. Edith was convinced that Margaret was abandoning her and considered an engagement to John Thornton highly disagreeable when Henry Lennox was a far better choice and would keep Margaret close at hand to help with the children. Mrs. Shaw said relatively little on the subject, but her expression spoke volumes and she would make the occasional disparaging comment against anyone "who would willingly live in that horrid town of Milton"._

_Mr. Thornton had come that morning to discuss the lease of Marlborough Mills and unknowingly to hear Margaret's business proposal. The discussion of the business proposal had led to a strange resolution of the conflict between them, but as she sat considering it, nothing was truly resolved. She was filled with hope for he still regarded her. He was aware of her affections. There was a strong indication of the desire to marry on both sides, but nothing was formally spoken. To be sure, she still did not know if he would accept her offer and reopen the factory._

_Still in the early stages of negotiating business and love, they had been called to luncheon by a nervous young servant who appeared to know exactly what she was interrupting judging by her scarlet complexion as she curtsied into the back drawing room. Nothing would have been mentioned to anyone in the household under these circumstances if Edith had not of accosted her upon leaving the room, her normally pale face flushed with excitement, demanding to know if she was going to marry Mr. Thornton. The gentleman in question was standing, tall and proud, directly behind her. Margaret had cast a nervous glance at him over her shoulder, turned pale, and then fled past her cousin to the dining room._

_Edith's distress quickly drove an uncomfortable Mr. Thornton from the house with an apology about additional business and a desire to find Mr. Lennox. Mrs. Shaw's disagreeable countenance drove Margaret to her room with the plea of a headache but her aunt and Edith had hardly waited for her exit before setting to gossip earnestly over the affair. She paused outside the sitting room door to listen. Both agreed that it was a terrible match but surprisingly found no real reason against it except their own selfishness. They both knew that Margaret had no special regard for Edith's brother-in-law, but since she did not seem inclined to marry for love, he would be a much better choice than a poor manufacturer!_

"_And Milton!" Mrs. Shaw had cried, "such a disagreeable, unhealthy place. It will kill Margaret as surely as it did her mother. Edith, you should have ignored Henry's request and interrupted them before this nonsense could ever have taken place! Imagine, leaving them alone together when he promised to be present."_

_But Edith had a strange look upon her lovely features and replied in a distracted tone of puzzlement, "But what if Margaret loves him, Mama?"_

_Mrs. Shaw paused in her grievance to consider this. "That's a dreadfully strange notion!"_

"_It isn't so very strange. She was depressed for such a long time after Uncle Richard died and poor Mr. Bell," Edith said quietly, wringing her small hands in her lap. "She revived much after our stay in Cromer but she hasn't been the same Margaret that left us two years ago. I know that she loved her parents dearly and that she mourns greatly for them, but might she not also long for Milton, or at least one in Milton who possesses her heart? "_

"_Long for Milton? That's extraordinarily sentimental, my dear child," Mrs. Shaw waved dismissively, but the seed of a grand romance had been planted into her imagination and quickly taken root. It changed her entire view on the heretofore disagreeable situation and she spent the rest of the afternoon in a wistful mood._

Margaret shifted in her seat, resting her back against her husband's side so she could watch the landscape streak by once more.

_Mrs. Thornton had surprised everyone by arriving a week ago in London, contrary to her assurances the last time Margaret saw her that a visit to Harley Street was very unlikely. She brought with her the most beautiful wedding dress Margaret had ever seen, a combination of silk and that old English point lace her mother had so often admired in the stately woman's dress of her first visit. The dress and not just the lace was obviously an heir-loom, had in fact been her grandmother's, and Mrs. Thornton had made many concessions to preserve it in the hopes that Fanny might wear it for her wedding. The silly girl had thought it too antique and wanted the latest London fashion but the proud mother was hopeful that Margaret had taste and would find it suitable for she desired to see the garment worn in at least one of her children's weddings._

_The gesture had touched Margaret deeply even while she could not understand it, but it was apparent that Mrs. Thornton was making a great effort for her son's sake to be amiable and Margaret met her halfway. She wanted nothing more than to befriend the stern mother whose overprotective jealousy of her son's affection was to become a constant factor in Margaret's life. The task turned out to be less trying than anticipated for Margaret had learned humility since their last encounter and it allowed her to view the woman with different eyes. It was apparent to her now that Mrs. Thornton was rather shy in society, hid her shyness behind irritated indifference. Margaret was honored that she had ventured to London at all so she put aside hard feelings. Mrs. Thornton seemed to do the same and with Mr. Thornton as a foundation, a stronger one could not be had, they began to build a tentative relationship from the bond of their mutual love for him._

_The week passed quickly and Mr. Thornton arrived unexpectedly that morning. The events that transpired after his arrival led to her present situation on a train to Milton, tucked against his side, Miss Hale no longer. A smile curled her full lips as she remembered John standing in the breakfast room, announcing that he was taking his mother and wife home. She would never forget the look on her aunt's face or how quickly and easily the feat was accomplished nor Edith's awed expression when Margaret faced her in the dressing room, hair left down and swept back except for a few tendrils of curl left to drift about her face, the white and cream dress hanging in delicate folds modestly outlining her figure._

"_You look like an angel," her cousin had breathed before bursting into tears. "Oh Margaret, how I shall miss you!"_

_Edith's husband and Mr. Lennox had arrived while Margaret was dressing, both inclined to join the impromptu wedding party to the church._

"_Do you regret the lack of trees and the London church?" Mr. Lennox murmured rather coldly, moving next to Margaret to assist her into the carriage._

_She frowned at his tone and the memory of that long ago conversation, which had once given him false hope and instigated her first unwelcome marriage proposal. Her ideas of walking to church through the New Forest of Helstone had been all but forgotten. She would be just as happy driving to church on a bleak winter evening as long as a certain 'poor manufacturer' awaited her there. A tear suddenly escaped, fleeing down her cheek as she thought of the one thing that would make this beautiful summer morning complete. _

_She replied, "I only regret that my parents aren't here, Henry." He had the grace to look abashed but Margaret, taking a deep breath and smiling brightly through her momentary sadness, added: "At least we escaped the wedding breakfast!"_

_Mrs. Shaw remarked afterward that it certainly wasn't a traditional wedding, but Edith pointed out that Margaret had never been a traditional woman. The wedding suited Margaret in its quiet simplicity. Only close family and friends were in attendance, the absence of lost loved ones keenly felt. The groom awaited her at the alter, tall and stern though his hand was trembling when she laid her own in it and when she looked into his eyes found them shining with unshed tears._

The train was passing through a small farming town as Margaret's eyes began to droop, relaxed by the rolling scenery and the gentle rise and fall of her husband's chest against her, his breath caressing the back of her neck. Lost in these happy sensations, she drifted off to sleep.


	2. Mrs Thornton

**I was going to post this next week but I had some free time today and decided to get it out there. Thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope you all enjoy it. All stated disclaimers apply. The next chapter is from the point of view of John Thornton, and I should have it up sometime early next week. In the meantime, enjoy your weekend.**

And no matter what the progress  
Or what may yet be proved  
The simple facts of life are such  
They cannot be removed.

You must remember this  
A kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh.  
The fundamental things apply  
As time goes by.

Herman Hupfeld

Hanna Thornton was also thinking of the past week while staring solemnly at the passing landscape in a separate compartment from her son and daughter-in-law on the languorous journey north. If anyone had told her a month ago that she could love Margaret Hale, she might have spit in their face, but it was hard to maintain hard feelings for one who held such open adoration for her son in their eyes and who possessed a formidable strength of character in the aftermath of devastating tragedy. An unfamiliar sense of shame overcame her as she remembered once calling Margaret weak, shortly after Mr. Hale had died. It did not matter that, at the time, she believed the girl's indifference to John was a fatal flaw - she had obviously come to her senses.

_She had greeted Margaret's welcome coolly at the station in London when she arrived, civilly answered the polite inquires to the comfort of their trip, and upon entering the large and beautiful house on Harley Street, began the mission of reevaluating this woman who had caused so much difficulty in her life. She had never grasped how a girl raised by a poor Vicar in the country, and living in such low circumstances in Milton, had ever acquired such a haughty demeanor. It was quickly apparent that her manners had been learned in London living with such rich relations, her youth spent in society beside the lovely and frivolous Edith Lennox. It was a wonder to Mrs. Thornton that Margaret had not picked up the girl's rather spoiled temperament, but she knew better than anyone that character was a part of personal nature. Did her daughter Fanny not have similar weaknesses that inflicted Mrs. Lennox, weaknesses that were certainly not taught by mother or brother? Margaret Hale's iron will, strength of character, and regal bearing were certainly born to her and it impressed Mrs. Thornton, in spite of herself. For John's sake, she was attempting to find redeeming qualities in the one who had made him happier than she could remember him ever being. If she wanted to be fair, she had already seen and heard enough to make her love the creature, if that same girl had not also been responsible for making her son more miserable than he had ever been._

_Margaret hovered attentively around her, attempting to see to her comfort and growing more nervous by degrees as her efforts seemed to slide off the woman like raindrops on a leaf. It was obvious that she felt she would never obtain forgiveness or gain the approval of one who's heart and mind was so decidedly set against her and not betraying her dismay at this fact was becoming increasingly clear. The impossibility of concealing her anxiety at this meeting was also wearing alarmingly on her control and Mrs. Thornton, uncomfortable under the scrutiny of Mrs. Lennox and her mother, felt that any moment would shatter Margaret's reserve. It did not help that the mother and daughter were making every attempt to draw Mrs. Thornton out in the fashion of London society, which only increase her irritation._

"_Edith," Margaret said suddenly, taking a deep breath and making a great show of observing the time. "Did you and Aunt Shaw not have an obligation to visit Mrs. Gibson for her weekly luncheon? I especially ordered the carriage to stay ready for the occasion, and you know how the children lift the poor woman's spirits since Helen is away in France for the summer!"_

_Mrs. Shaw began to object, but Edith, for all her carelessness, had a shrewd understanding of Margaret and saw immediately that she wished to be alone with Mrs. Thornton. "Yes! I fear you are correct, Margaret," she cried, interrupting her mother. "I was so engaged by the idea of a new acquaintance that I quite forgot the time."_

"_Please don't fret, dear aunt" Margaret said with a sweet smile, rising and taking her hand in both of her own, "I shall take good care of my guest."_

"_This is highly unusual," Mrs. Shaw sniffed, but after looking from Margaret to Edith, she rose at their pointed looks and followed her daughter from the room with a promise to Mrs. Thornton of a fine dinner upon their return._

_When they were alone, Margaret heaved an audible sigh of relief and smiled ruefully at the expression on Mrs. Thornton's face. "I love them dearly, but there are things that you and I must discuss alone."_

"_To be sure, Miss Hale," Mrs. Thornton said, waiting until Margaret was seated once more before continuing: "Before you say anything, let me inform you that I know it was your brother at the train station that night. I will not apologize for my actions in counseling you; my reasons were just and based on appearances which you never attempted to justify by explaining that the man was a relation. What I still cannot understand, after having your pride insulted, is how you could refuse to give me the simple truth."_

_Margaret was obviously surprised by this speech but not distressed by it. She seemed pleased that Mr. Thornton had not explained all, leaving her to justify the situation without his defense. "Then Mr. Thornton did not tell you that my brother is a fugitive from England?"_

_"No! He did not!" Mrs. Thornton's eyes widened at this news and she stared incredulously at Margaret. "Pray, explain."_

_It took an hour to address all of Mrs. Thornton's inquiries about her brother and Margaret did so with an open and honest heart, explaining all with the sweet reserve that always made Mrs. Thornton almost like her. In that hour, Margaret had dismantled nearly every prejudice Mrs. Thornton had against her, proving herself a responsible, dignified woman full of inner strength and perseverance. The next few days won the formidable mother over completely as they discussed the son, for Margaret was unable to hide the fiercely passionate devotion and love she felt for the man and it could be heard in the sound of his name on her lips, seen in her eyes when she thought of him._

_Mrs. Thornton's expression was grave and inexpressibly sad when she finally leaned forward and said, "Well then, we must return you to Milton as soon as possible."_

"_How soon is possible?" Margaret sighed, so lost in the idea that she missed the sadness in the woman's eyes._

_That very morning found Margaret and Mrs. Thornton sitting at the breakfast table conversing like old friends, their topic confounding Edith for they were discussing everything from Milton business practices to the endearing qualities of the Milton people. Edith made several attempts to change the topic for she seemed to wish fervently that the fitting of Margaret's wedding dress had yet to be completed - the previous mornings conversation had been filled with understandable discussions of lace and alterations - the talk of factories and northern customs seemed quite beyond her comprehension and obviously bored her. Mrs. Shaw had made a vague assumption toward disgust at the topic of Darkshire temperament but was met with such a fierce glare from the current and future Mrs. Thorntons that she paled, resolutely turning to Edith and complimenting her new bonnet in her own vain attempt to change the subject._

_When the mail arrived, Margaret was pleased to receive a letter from Mr. Thornton and quickly excused herself to go read it. Her eyes were bent to the envelope as she left the room and so she did not see the man who entered and whom she promptly walked into, dropping the precious paper. Nor did she raise her eyes to him as she muttered a quick apology while attempting to retrieve it. Her efforts were arrested by strong hands grasping her shoulders._

"_This is just the welcome I spent three hours on a train imagining!" The man laughed and her eyes flew from the dropped letter to teasing eyes and the owner of that familiar voice._

"_John," she breathed._

_His laughter faded and his eyes darkened as he gazed down at her, for he could not remember her ever being more lovely. Her hair was slightly tousled from the collision and subsequent attempt to rescue her letter, an errant curl tickling her nose and making it twitch before she impatiently brushed it aside. She wore a pale blue shirt with a sapphire skirt which matched the ring on the hand that had crept up to her chest in surprise. He stared possessively at that hand for a breathless moment before raising his eyes to hers. Her mouth was slightly parted in disbelief and she shook her head in confusion even as she stepped closer to him, raising her other hand to his face._

"_Am I dreaming?"_

"_I sincerely hope not," he murmured, leaning into her touch and resisting the urge to take her fully into his arms and scandalizing the aunt and cousin. He glanced at the pair beside his mother at the breakfast table and decided it was too late. Mrs. Shaw looked horrified while Edith had clasped her hands beneath her chin and was staring at them in wistful anticipation of romantic entertainment. His mother just stared at him with an arched eyebrow. He grinned at her and shrugged before pulling Margaret fully against him and claiming her lips in a soft, lingering kiss._

_She blushed prettily but stepped back at the indignant squawk from her aunt, found her composure, retrieved the letter, and accompanied him to the table where she attempted to steady her nerves in the familiar ritual of preparing his tea. Mrs. Thornton watched his expression like a hawk as his eyes lingered on Margaret's wrist as she lifted the teapot, a bracelet on her arm slipping down which she would immediately push back up to keep from dangling into the cup. Her eyebrow rose almost to her hairline when her son reached forward suddenly and pinched the bracelet between two long fingers, holding it steady higher on Margaret's arm. The young woman looked up at him, meeting his eyes which were filled with a fierce satisfaction and Mrs. Thornton knew that he had watched that bracelet several times before with an intense desire to perform the current action. The fascinating moment was interrupted by Margaret's aunt._

"_Margaret," Mrs. Shaw said in harshly projected whisper, "I will not have such improper behavior displayed in our very breakfast room! Those are not the actions of a gentleman!"_

"_I've never claimed to be a gentleman, madam," Mr. Thornton replied briskly, his features seeming to turn to stone as he shifted his attention to her. "I am merely a man, and you shall not have my uncouth manners paraded before you much longer. I've come to take my mother and my wife home."_

_The teapot clattered onto the tray as Margaret whirled around to face him with a startled and questioning look on her face. He moved as if to embrace her again but restrained himself, and his mother's keen eyes noted the tell-tale signs of nervousness in the tight lines around his eyes fearful of how the girl would accept his plan. _

_"I obtained a marriage license," he addressed Margaret defensively. "I thought it might make everything easier."_

_Margaret continued to stare, her head tilted slightly to the side, her mouth a stern line. His nerves continued to fray under such intense scrutiny and he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Are you displeased? Forgive me if I am being impertinent but every day at home without you there is a torment and I care not for lavish ceremonies. I want to marry you. As soon as possible."_

_"Are you saying that we can walk out of this house to the church," she said slowly, "and marry today?"_

_He nodded, watching her carefully._

_"I must be dreaming." _

"_You cannot seriously be considering this," Mrs. Shaw cried, looking to Edith for support who continued to gaze at Mr. Thornton and Margaret with an entranced expression. "We must have a farewell dinner and the invitations have not been sent out, your dress is only just finished, and - what will people think? That man is out of bounds, Margaret! A marriage license!"_

"_Do you honestly think I care what anyone thinks?" Margaret cried, the animation returning to her features as she rounded on her aunt, queenly in her indignation; back straight, head proudly angled, eyes flashing fire. "Most of the people that I would desire to attend my wedding are either dead or lost to me. Can I send invitations to Mr. Bell or my parents, or even to my dear Frederick? I'm getting married because I love "that man"; not to entertain half of London society. I'm going upstairs. I'm going to put on the dress Mrs. Thornton was so very kind to offer me, and then I'm going to accompany "that man" to the church!"_

"_Now?" Edith cried, the meaning finally dawning on her. "But the children..."_

_When Margaret directed that regal stare at her, Edith's mouth snapped shut as though ordered and the objections trailed off into silence._

_When Mr. Thornton arrived with his news, he was planning to give her a day or two to say goodbye to her friends and make such small preparations as she might like for the event. Her words lit up his eyes with pleasure though his expression remained stern as he unconsciously shifted his position to stand just behind and to the left of her like a sentinel guarding his queen. Finally running out of steam, she glanced over her shoulder to see his intimidating pose and a nervous laugh burst from her as she realized the startled indignation in her aunt's eyes was not solely directed at her willful defiance of custom.  
_

_She sighed and turned back to her relatives, once more the quiet Margaret they were accustomed to. "I don't mean to grieve you! I love you dearly, but I want to go home. My greatest happiness would be to have the family I love that is left to me in attendance. Will you not come?"_

_Everyone in the room felt Margaret's blend of sorrow and joy so keenly in her passionate words that silence reigned for several moments. At last Mrs. Shaw rose from the table with a heavy sigh, hastily brushing a tear from her eye as she walked to the door. For all her notions of propriety, she secretly found the entire idea far too romantic to object, and there was sense in Margaret's wish for a small, private wedding, which she admitted to Mrs. Thornton in a wistful moment after the ceremony. When she reached the door, she turned and gestured impatiently to Margaret. "Well, if you insist on being irrational, we'd best get this shocking business over with. Come!"_

_Margaret obeyed immediately, casting a look at Edith who hastily rushed after them when her mother's voice could be heard ringing orders to the servants throughout the house._

_Mr. Thornton moved to stand beside his mother, placing a trembling hand on her shoulder as he turned his face to the ceiling and expelled a breath he wasn't aware of holding. "It seems that I'm getting married today, Mother."_

"_To be sure," she smiled tightly. "Was that not your wish?"_

_He ran his free hand across the back of his neck and laughed ruefully, "I was expecting her to take longer to convince."_

"_How long would you have given her?"_

"_Until tomorrow."_

_It was Mrs. Thornton's turn to laugh, startling her son who, in all his life, rarely heard her do so. The sound pleased him and eased the trembling in his limbs as they waited._

"_Have you and Margaret come to an understanding, then?" he demanded suddenly. "She will be mine whether you like her or not, but I would have you like her."_

"_John," she sighed. "I believe that I'm getting old. I tried to hate her. For your sake, I tried. It's exhausting. She's refreshing as a spring rain and almost makes me feel young again. It's easier to like her."_

_He leaned down, warmly kissed her cheek and whispered, "I love you, Mother."_

A tear slipped from her leathery eye as warm affection for her son overcame her, as she realized how completely her heart had changed toward the woman who now shared the name of Mrs. Thornton. When he informed her that he must give up Marlborough Mills, she had never felt such grief. It did not matter what happened to her, only that her son, who had worked so hard for everything they had, must begin anew in a cruel and unforgiving industry. Margaret had saved him, given him a chance to continue the life he had taken such care to build, loved him even when he had nothing to offer. If she had no other redeeming qualities, for that reason alone Hannah Thornton would thank God every day for Margaret Hale.

He daughter-in-law, for all her regal composure, had looked more like a princess today than a queen, more beautiful than Mrs. Thornton could have imagined in the dress she brought, shyly standing in front of the church glowing with warm happiness as she bound her life to the man beside her. A tension that had been present in his posture since he had first met Margaret gradually relaxed as she spoke her vows, as he repeated them, as the Vicar blessed the marriage, as he turned toward the small gathering as a married a man. Hannah leaned her head against the cool window pane and smiled.


	3. Mr Thornton

**I realize that this is an extraordinarily long chapter but I hope you enjoy it. The main storyline will begin after this. As always, I own nothing related to the characters and world of Elizabeth Gaskell or the lyrics of As Time Goes By by Herman Hupfeld. Lastly, I want to thank my amazing reviewers. Your insight, requests, encouragement, and patience keeps me writing.**

Moonlight and love songs  
Never out of date.  
Hearts full of passion  
Jealousy and hate.  
Woman needs man  
And man must have his mate  
That no one can deny.

Herman Hupfeld

John Thornton was a proud man, but no amount of pride could stop the tears that sprang into his eyes when he felt his wife shift on his arm as sleep claimed her. This had really happened. She was truly his. It had been a little over a month since he had come to London to discuss the extermination of his lease of Marlborough Mills. A little over a month since she had offered to invest the money to keep it running. A little over a month since he had accepted her offer and reopened the factory. A little over a month since he learned that she cared for him, agreed to marry him. A little over two hours since she became his wife. Holding her protectively, he was helpless to prevent a few silent tears of relief to fill his eyes, thinking back to the beginning of this happy resolution.

_Mr. Thornton was not insincere in his desire to find Mr. Lennox that fateful day at Harley Street when he had fled Mrs. Shaw's glaring disapproval, but he had a more pressing mission at hand as he glanced through the glass in a jeweler's shop examining rings. The jeweler, judging him a man of wealth by his dress, insisted on presenting large and expensive rings like Fanny would prefer, labeling them traditional, but none of them seemed to suit the intended recipient and tradition be damned anyway. There was nothing traditional in Margaret Hale, or himself for that matter. He thought of the time he had stopped in Helstone._

_She referred to it so often, so fondly, and the image of her running without care in the forests of her birth made him desirous to see the place, whose refreshing presence still seemed to linger and exert itself in her passionate nature. As he followed a path through the trees, breathing the fragrant air so different from Milton, he realized that time in London had distilled her into something more reserved but nothing could ever refine the sweet influence that made her twine about the hearts of all she encountered like the bushes from which he plucked the roses she had taken from him that morning. Indeed, once she was in your heart it seemed like she blossomed there and anyone who carried the flower of her influence within them was kindred. It was the only way that he could explain the accident of his acquaintance, and subsequent friendship, with Nicholas Higgins._

_That was not to say that Milton had not affected her just as profoundly as Helstone and London. At the time, he thought her manifold tragedies might harden her, destroy that quality within her that seemed to bend in the strong winds of life like a graceful willow tree. He worried that if she was hardened in spirit that she might break and cease to be the woman whom he loved so desperately that he could scarce believe he had survived more than a year without her presence. Indeed, when last he saw her shortly after Mr. Hale's death, there was a terrifying fragility about her as though her indomitable spirit were withering and cracking beneath the onslaught of grief's mighty gales. He had wanted to take her in his arms, to comfort and protect her, to give her every ounce of his own strength - but he found he had none. There was no comfort he could give with the belief that she craved another man's arms; no hope to offer when he was hopeless - breaking under the truth that she was going, never to return._

_When he greeted her at the dinner party, hopeless still because of his diminished circumstances but resolved to be the friend she might desperately need in her weakness of heart, he found that she had weathered the storm intact. That quiet flexible strength was in her bearing, that same regal defiance in her eyes that said she would do exactly as she pleased, even when overwhelmed by sorrow, sure in the knowledge that the cold winds may blow but would not last forever and that she would find a bountiful spring at the end of the brutal winter._

_More than anything, he wanted to be the reason for that pleasant flowering season of her life, for she was his. Even as the harsh reality of his situation in Milton was unfolding, all he had to do was think of her to find a small measure of peace among the unwavering cares that weighed on him. When he first met her, he was young and arrogant with a desire to be known throughout the world and she sought to humble him. Now he was older than such a year should make a man and life had succeeded where she could not in teaching him humility, but he loved her the more for trying – and he loved her for restoring him to his life._

_He had awoken that morning a failed manufacturer, ready to sign away the remnants of all he had worked for his entire life to the one whom he desired more than a name known in lands he would never see, resolved to return home and begin life anew in a less noble profession than his ambitions demanded. Bearing well the weight of his despair, he had gone to Harley Street at eleven to meet his damnation only to be greeted at noon by a timid angel offering him all of his hopes and dreams._

_It was at the third shop he visited that he found the perfect ring, knowing instinctively that she would dislike something large and garish. The center stone was a sapphire surrounded by tiny diamond chips in a gold band with the design of roses on each side of the setting. It was elegant, sweet, and beautiful – like the woman it had been made for._

_Armed thus, he arrived at Harley Street shortly after tea and requested that Margaret walk out with him to a nearby park. The swiftness with which Margaret agreed amused and concerned him by turns. He could not decide if her haste to leave the confines of the house were out of a desire to be alone with him or a desire to be away from the aunt and cousin. In truth, Mrs. Shaw did not scowl at him as mightily as she did over luncheon, but the hawk-like curiosity in her eyes was just as disconcerting and, whatever Margaret's motives, he was glad when, after a very short wait, she was preceding him out the door. Once safely out of the house, he offered his arm and gently guided her in the direction of a park that possessed trees and benches where they might rest in the shade and continue their conversation in peace._

_She glided beside him as he became lost in the thoughts of how to proceed asking for the one thing he desired above all else, for her to share a future with him. The thoughts must have betrayed themselves in his countenance, which furrowed his brow and compressed his mouth into a thin line for she asked timidly,"Mr. Thornton? Are you well?"_

"_Oh, yes! Quite well!" he replied quickly, startled from his own thoughts, attempting to find fitting words to go with the ring in his vest pocket, adding weakly while feeling incredibly rude and unworthy of the creature clinging with sweet trust to his arm, "the sun. It's rather bright."_

"_Is that all?"_

"_No," he sighed, running his hand over his face as though to wipe away the traitorous expressions which forced this conversation before he had time to prepare sufficiently for it. "I don't like that you still call me Mr. Thornton as though the events of earlier did not happen," he heard himself say defensively._

"_I'm not accustomed to using your Christian name," she replied in a startled, hurt whisper, suddenly shy."Forgive me if I've caused you pain by continuing in the old way. This is all very new."_

"_It's new to me as well," he grasped the hand entwined through his arm and squeezed it tightly as his eyes closed briefly on a spasm of feeling. "There is something that I wish to ask you, but the memory of rejection is still strong in my mind. It make me cautious."_

"_If I can satisfy your mind on any point, I would not have more misunderstandings between us, but there is something very important that I wish to discuss with you first." This last was added in a rush, betraying her nerves even as the hand on his arm began to tremble._

_He stopped suddenly and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. Sighing, he said gravely, "I already know about your brother."_

_The color drained from her face and she clutched at his arm to keep from falling as her legs failed her. He felt her sudden weakness and quickly set his arm about her waist to support her._

"_How much do you know?" she gasped. "Did Mr. Bell succeed in..."_

"_Higgins confided in me, quite accidentally," he interrupted. "He assumed that I already had the intelligence. I know that Frederick was the reason you were at the train station that night, and why you went to such lengths to protect him."_

"_You learned all that from Nicholas?"_

"_No, only that he had been here. I learned of your brother's situation from Mr. Bell. He stayed at my house for a few days after..." Grief constricted his throat, "after your aunt came and took you away from me."_

_He closed his eyes tightly at the words that escaped his heart, having blundered into a greater sorrow than the one he had attempted to avoid._

"_After my father died, you mean," she said quietly. _

_He shook his head, swallowing thickly. "Forgive me. Your father was a dear friend and I miss him greatly. It's still difficult to think of him being gone, even after all this time, but losing him meant losing you as well. I regret..."_

"Don't_," she interrupted, squeezing his arm gently. "Let us move beyond regrets. We cannot change the past, only embrace the present, and we were discussing my brother. What did Mr. Bell tell you?"_

"_Only that Frederick had been implicated in the bad business of that mutiny a few years ago and faced death if he returned to England. Mr. Bell was quiet distressed that your brother could not claim you and he had to relinquish you to your charming aunt." He smiled ruefully and ran his hand across the back of his neck. "I must confess to a hope that it might have been your brother. Were my mother dying and I had to risk death to see her, I would do so unhesitatingly, but Mr. Bell insisted that it must have been Henry Lennox at the train station. Did no one tell him that Frederick was here?"_

"_We didn't tell anybody," she sighed. "We never even confided in Nicholas, you understand. I spoke of Frederick to Bessy once, but it must have been Mary who discerned the truth. She came to the house, helping with things Dixon could not do while caring for mother, but she says so little that it's easy to forget what she might see and hear. Oh, but I wanted you to know! I told Mr. Bell everything when he and I went to Helstone a few months ago and I asked him to tell you."_

"_He never got the chance, poor soul." Gently tugging her arm, he encouraged her to continue their walk. At length, he inquired, "Why didn't you - or Mr. Hale tell me? Had I not proven myself a faithful friend? I might have been of use. I thought Frederick was your lover, Margaret. You cannot imagine how the image of you embracing him on that platform has haunted me!"_

"_It had been a family secret for so long, and besides, you were a magistrate," she explained, recovered in mind but still trembling from the relief of his knowing. "I imagine that you still are. To bring you into our confidence would have been an unjust and presumptuous insult to your responsibilities."_

"_And later?" he questioned gently, "When you learned of Leonards' death, why did you not talk to me then? You knew that I was already concerned in the matter."_

_Tears sprang into her eyes as the guilt of her weakness, so long suppressed, filled her. "At the time, I only knew that you were aware of my falsehood. That was torment enough, but I never even considered how it must look, that no one would realize he was my brother, until Mrs. Thornton confronted me with assertions of impropriety. I was very uncivil to her because my pride had been wounded, but after she left I was overwhelmed with mortification at the knowledge that you must believe the same!" She lowered her head, adding quietly, "God could not have graced me with a more humbling punishment for my sin than the awareness of how deserving I was of your low opinion."_

"_I had no idea that my opinion was so important to you," he said gravely._

"_Neither did I," she admitted, picking nervously at her skirt, "until I no longer had the good of it. I discovered then that it was the dearest thing in the world to my heart. Of course, that did not change the fact that we had never agreed - on anything! I could not understand you and when I did, it was too late. I had sunk so low in your esteem and you had risen so far in mine that I could not trust myself to speak to you in a rational manner."_

"_I can hardly believe that!" he laughed incredulously, startling her. "Can Margaret Hale act irrationally?"_

"_I'm certain of it!" She raised her eyes to a point in the distance, still too abashed to look at him directly, adding in a voice so low he had to bend to hear, "Perhaps I've always acted irrationally toward you because you've always unsettled me and my heart sometimes reacts quite violently to your presence.__" __  
_

_They walked in silence for several moments, Margaret fidgeting nervously while he experienced an indescribable elation at her words. When they turned into the park and made their way slowly to a large tree at it's center, she said in the same quiet manner, "I never had the chance to thank you for helping with the Inspector. I realize it was out of respect for my father but I would hate for you to think me ungrateful."_

_By the time they reached the cool shade of the tree's sweeping branches, her confession had burned itself into his heart. He was overcome with love for her and found himself exerting his formidable will to control exercising some public display of passionate regard._

_Her heart reacted violently to him? He unsettled her - made her irrational? It was apparent that she regarded him, had learned to care for him, but these signs pointed to a stronger emotion that he dared not hope for._

_Instead, he took a deep breath and offered her the same honesty she had just given him. "Margaret, I didn't do it for your father. Yes! I was jealous and infuriated - and God help me! Disappointed! I never could tell if it was in you or in my own judgement, but I cursed my heart often for remaining constant and true. In spite of what I believed - whatever I may have said - I have never stopped loving you." His will was unequal to the task of restraint and he spun her about in his arms at these words and, uncaring who may see, pressed his lips to her forehead, then to her cheek, finally resting against the corner of her mouth where he murmured - "Must I convince you?"_

_She toyed nervously with the silk cravat at this throat and then flushed scarlet. He attempted to step away with a muttered apology but found himself unable to do so for she held tight to the afore mentioned object. His startled eyes found her smiling in a very womanly way though a shy uncertainty lingered in her expression and he was pleased that she was not affronted with his shocking behavior._

"_Will you always use such persuasions?" she said shyly, in a husky voice. He found that he adored the sound, resolving to make her speak to him in such a way as often as possible. Then a dark thought crossed his mind and before he could banish it in the desire to cherish this moment with her wrapped in his arms, it betrayed itself in his expression. She added anxiously, "Have I done something wrong? I did not mean to upset you with my teasing."_

"_I confess that I like the teasing, but there is something that I must ask you." His arms tightened around her for a brief moment as he struggled to find words._

"_Then speak," she said, distressed by the intense urgency in his voice, fearing what he was going to say, but telling herself that all would be well. He loved her. _

_She was still unprepared as his eyes captured hers, demanding and slightly cold. "Why the business proposal? If you truly believed in my indifference, what would you have gained by making the offer? Surely your lawyer counselled you against taking a risk with me, a failed manufacturer."_

_Dismay consumed him as she paled once more and he could see the thoughts racing through her mind, seeming to confirm his fears, but he remained silent. He observed the internal struggle play out, watched in fascination as a tear escaped her restraint and slid down her cheek. Reaching up, he brush it away with the pad of his thumb, feeling something deep inside his soul crack like thawing ice as her eyes closed and she unconsciously leaned into the touch. That simple act of trust gave him profound comfort and he whispered tenderly, "Forgive me for being cruel. You were happy a moment ago."_

_She shook her head violently and attempted to hide her face against his chest but found her chin held fast between his fingers as he stared down at her, forcing her to look up at him. His body ached with tension as he awaited her response and he finally allowed her to step back, to pace in passionate anxiety as the last of her secrets poured from her soul. "I could not stand the idea of another tragedy, and Marlborough Mills without John Thornton as master was a death that I was unwilling to grieve for when I could do something about it. As the property owner, it was the only link I had with you! Even if you thought me a liar – worse! Corrupted! I could not relinquish that link when it gave me the smallest hope of seeing you again. As for you being a poor investment? It's impossible to believe there can be anyone more worthy or capable than you, whom I love so completely that the idea of living in this world without you in my life is unbearable!"_

_Here, he caught her to him, exclaiming, "Thank God! I feared it was the same impulse that made you run out to me on the day of the strike! Take care, Margaret. I am naught but a proud Milton man, but if you offer your love to me, I will take it. No level of pride will induce me to walk away from what I desire most in this world. Do you truly mean it?"_

_But it was several delicious moments before he allowed her to answer. When he released her she clung to him, laying her head to his chest, listening to the savage rhythm of his heart._ _ "I cannot fault you for being incredulous after the appalling way I treated you."_

_"By no means am I innocent in this, Margaret_. _My conduct was unpardonable, insolent and aggressively uncompromising to a lady unaccustomed to Milton ways."_

_"Yes, but I believe that you had a measurable dislike of my person for some time as well." She reached up and caressed his face. "Tell me, when did you learn to like me and was it before you loved me?"_

_Relief made him giddy and mischief danced in his eyes as the corner of his mouth turned up into what could only be described as a wicked smile._

"_Who says that I have learned to like you?"_

_She smiled tenderly and replied,"I shall have to work very hard at teaching you."_

_He released her hand and encircled her waist, pulling her fully into his arms once more. "I will be a most willing student," he whispered against her lips,"for the rest of my life."_

_She opened her eyes at these words to see that he held an object before them. Dizzy with emotion, it took her a moment to focus on the small ring between his fingers._

"_Am I truly what you want?" She demanded to know, head clearing, staring at the simple beauty of the ring in admiration of his taste, but hesitant now that the moment of commitment had come."There have been so many misunderstandings that I'm still not certain we can get along. This is our first real conversation since parting over a year ago!"_

"_I'm not proposing that we always get along well together, just as long as we are together," he replied dryly, then laughed and hugged her to him, whispering feverishly into her ear, "This last year without you to misunderstand me has been hell! A snow white hell! I've admitted to a greediness where you are concerned, Margaret. I want everything. I'm rather fond of our arguments because I want to prove to you that I'm right. I want you to forgive me when I'm wrong. I want to take you home with me. I want you near me. I want to hear your laughter and opinions. I want the chance to love you. I want to hold you in my arms every night, and kiss you awake every morning. I want you to be the mother of my children. Mostly, I want you to say yes, and then I want you to tell me that you love me again."_

_Her answer was everything he hoped it could be._

_Henry Lennox appeared that evening and if he was displeased by the circumstances following his absence that morning, he betrayed nothing in look or manner even if he was less friendly and more professional in his discourse with Margaret. He disappeared into the drawing-room with the new couple following dinner and remained with them for more than an hour as the investment papers signed for it had been agreed upon that Marlborough Mills should be operational before the wedding took place. The fact that there had been considerable debate on the return walk to Harley Street was something no one needed to know, outside of Margaret, who felt pleased with her victory, and Mr. Thornton, who felt annoyed at having to wait but he could not fault her desire to have his life restored before he brought her into it. He returned to Milton the following day to resolve his affairs as quickly as possible._

The relief of tears lasted only a few moments before he contained himself, pressing a kiss into the dark curls tickling his cheek, resting his head upon hers and allowing himself the luxury of succumbing to his own exhaustion. Lulled to sleep by the softness of the woman in his arms, her rhythmic breathing and soft sighs, her scent of rosemary and lavender, he dreamed. Helstone was a lovely place in the heart of summer, the scent of pears and roses, lavender and linen permeating the air, the woman who once belonged to this place and now belonged to him wrapped in his arms. Together they gazed at the parsonage she had called home and the familiar couple in the garden waving to them, sharing smiles and a sense of bittersweet goodbye across an insurmountable distance of wildflowers and rose dotted hedgerows.


	4. An Evening at Home

**I'm now entering into the actual continuation of the story. At this point, I am open to any ideas of what I can do to improve the story, anything that you might like to read more of, or what you're particularly enjoying so please review. I'm doing this to improve as a writer as well as entertain my own mind on how the story of our favorite couple progresses, so any and all help is appreciated. Once again, this chapter is dedicated to RachelMargaret. I hope this fulfills your thoughtfully expressed expectations.**

And when two lovers woo  
They still say, "I love you."  
On that you can rely  
No matter what the future brings  
As time goes by.

Herman Hupfeld

Margaret also dreamed of Helstone, her father meticulously slicing a pear with her mother beside him, one hand on his shoulder, the other waving at her and John, who stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist and his chin resting atop her head. Her father spotted them and raised the half shaved pear in a jonty wave with a sad smile on his lips. They never approached her parents, just stood and watched, but the feeling of the dream told her they were waiting for her, they were happy for her, and the raindrops tasted of goodbye.

She awoke to the feeling of a gentle caress on her face and discovered John kneeling before her, his long frame wedged between the seats, brushing away the tears that glided down her face.

"Are you well?" he asked.

"Quite," she smiled brightly. "I was dreaming of mama and papa just now."

"So was I," he said, a curious expression crinkling the corners of his eyes. "We were in Helstone and they were in the backyard of the parsonage..."

"And father was eating a pear!" she sat up excitedly.

"Yes, actually! I awoke because a raindrop fell on my arm which turned out to be a tear."

He leaned forward and kissed her sweetly before shifting back to the seat across from her.

"What can it mean?" she said in wonder.

"I'm not a superstitious man, but perhaps God allowed us to see each other for the occasion. It feels as though I was, in that brief moment, permitted to say goodbye."

She nodded, searching for her handkerchief to wipe her face. There was no shame in crying for her parents, especially today when their loss was keenly felt by them both, but she felt relieved by the dream, understanding his sentiment. The strangeness of him sharing the dream made her think of Bessy Higgins and her obsession with dreams and visions, but before she could think more on the matter the train shuddered to a halt with a loud whistle.

They were home.

The sun was setting as the train pulled into Outwood station, staining the smoky sky with shades of red and orange. Hastily wiping her eyes, she took her husband's hand and disembarked the train, sufficiently distracted by the commotion of finding Mrs. Thornton and seeing their trunks loaded onto a carriage. All too soon, and finding herself unprepared for the moment, she entered her new home. It was only for one night. John was taking her to France for their honeymoon, leaving the following morning, but she fervently wished they could leave immediately. She irrationally dreaded entering the domain of his mother, for all that they had begun to form a tentative truce. It did nothing for her nerves when her husband announced that he had last minute arrangements to make at the mill for his month long departure and after seeing his wife and mother to the sitting room, making certain that the candles were lit, and requesting a snack from the kitchen, he left them.

Taking a deep breath, Margaret turned to the formidable woman across from her and said, "I confess that I have not thought this far ahead, Mrs. Thornton." Seeing the confusion on her mother-in-law's face, she elaborated with a wry smile, "the living arrangements. You are the mistress of this house. I'm – I'm unsure of my position here."

Mrs. Thornton was once again impressed by Margaret's candid approach to delicate subjects. A grim smile etched itself in hard lines on her face as she replied, "the answer should be obvious, Miss Hale."

"I am no longer Miss Hale," Margaret reminded her in a low voice, looking at the patterns on the throw rug at her feet.

"To be sure, but I am at a loss of what to call you now that it comes to it," she conceded with ill humor. "I had begun to believe that I would never share the title of Mrs. Thornton with another this side of the grave."

"It would please me if you could call me Margaret," said her daughter-in-law, looking at her with open honesty in her eyes. "I know that we have had our differences of opinion, but we both love your son dearly and I had some hope after this past week that perhaps we might build a habitable relationship on that foundation."

Mrs. Thornton looked astonished. "A habitable relationship? You mean that you intend me to remain here?"

"Only if that is your wish," Margaret replied in confusion. "I had thought there was no question of it."

"If you did have a choice, would you wish me to leave?"

"Of course not!" Margaret cried indignantly, rising to her feet. "How could you believe, after having been so permanently separated from my own parents and brother that I would desire to evict you from your home? John adores you and would never be happy if he could not always be on hand for you or easily find you for his own council. Honestly, do you still think so little of me?"

"Calm yourself, Miss - Margaret," Mrs. Thornton sighed, leaning back in her chair and gazing at the ceiling in a manner so like her son. "I meant no offense. I believed it was natural and right for you to desire my removal. This is your home now and as John's wife you are now mistress of the household. I will confess to a certain jealousy at relinquishing the position and being no longer first in his affections, but I could not have given him up to anyone less worthy."

Mrs. Thornton's mood alarmed Margaret for she had never seen her in such a state. Not too long ago, it would have been easy to take offense to the things she said, but Margaret had learned to look at things from other points of view and her agile mind quickly remembered that Mrs. Thornton never traveled. If Margaret was tired even after her nap on the train, it was a wonder her aging mother-in-law was still conscious. That did not mean she was not speaking from her heart, though. Margaret had seen the shadow of worry on her features several times when she thought herself unobserved, and Margaret had wondered at the reason. Now she knew and rather than be offended, she wanted to reassure her.

"You're tired," Margaret said gently, but firmly, "and are speaking nonsense. You're not giving him up and you're not going anywhere. There is no affection in a son's heart greater than what he bears for his mother. Remember, my brother left his fiance in Spain to travel into a country where discovery meant certain death just to say goodbye to our mother on her deathbed. I don't believe Frederick loves Dolores any less than John loves me and you must believe that John would do no less for you."

"I trust that John would not be so unlucky as to find himself on the wrong side of the law when I depart this world. I don't want him forced to chose between me and living his life," she grunted, rising from her chair and brushing the wrinkles out of her skirt impatiently. "But I believe you're right, my dear. I allowed exhaustion to make me maudlin. Let me show you around the house and I will take myself off to bed. I've never been fond of travel and I'm relieved to be home."

"Why don't you go on to bed, Mrs. Thornton. We can discuss the household arrangements when John and I return from France." Margaret moved to the window and stared across the courtyard at the flickering candlelight visible in the upstairs office window of the mill. "I'll wait up for John."

"You might be waiting up all night."

"Yes, I'm sure he has much to plan for if he's to be away for so long," the young wife sighed wistfully, turning to her mother-in-law. "Am I being selfish? Should I have told him that a trip to France was ridiculous and that I didn't need a honeymoon? I don't, truly."

"Go," Mrs. Thornton said gently. "Take this chance to have him all to yourself while you can. I know that's what he desires." A movement in the courtyard caught her eye and she moved next to Margaret to look out the window. "It looks like you won't be waiting up all night after all. Goodnight, Margaret."

Mrs. Thornton was swiftly gone, leaving Margaret alone in the sitting room. In the dim silence, her thoughts turned on her and she became overwhelmed as the reality of her position seemed to crash down upon her; that she had a new name, that once again life was so drastically different from the day before. The moon was visible through a hazy glow above the roof of the mill but there was enough light to cast a shadow from the figure moving toward the house, long graceful strides carrying him quickly toward his destination. Anxiety filled her at his approach, and though she was expecting it, the sound of the entryway door opening made her jump. The sound of his footstep seemed to echo through her and she could barely breath by the time his step stopped just behind her. It took all of her self control not to stiffen when he touched her, caressed her cheek, turned her face from the window.

"Forgive me, Margaret," he said quietly. "I did not mean to take so long. Has mother gone to bed?"

"Yes," she replied breathily yet relieved that her voice didn't crack. Her mouth was dry and she was afraid, but of what she did not know. Once before, she had stood at this same window under truly terrifying circumstances and did not feel a shred of fear until the man behind her had walked out to face an angry mob. The feeling now was similar, only this time it wasn't for the man, nor was it of the man. She realized that she was afraid of herself. Afraid that she might disappoint him in some way.

He felt her tension and guessed the cause but wisely said nothing, running his hands gently up and down her arms in an effort to sooth her as she turned back to stare resolutely out the window. He wondered if she realized how unsteady her breathing was, coming in small gasps. After a moment, she sighed deeply and leaned back against him.

"There's no need to apologize," she said, turning to face him with a bright smile on her features that stunned him. He instinctively knew it was forced though it did not appear so and he wondered how often she had to wear that same smile like a mask over her true emotions to protect those of others - namely her father.

"Don't hide behind forced cheer for me, love," he said gravely, taking her arm and leading her to a chair. He pulled another close so he could sit before her, see her, hold her hands in his while they talked. "My feelings don't need to be spared and it's natural for you to feel nervous. You think I'm not?"

The mask shattered and her eyes widened incredulously. It had never occurred to her that he might feel the same anxiety. After all, they were married now. Would they share his room? Would he be offended if she needed more time? He had brazenly told her that he wanted to hold her in his arms each night, kiss her awake each morning. The look in his eyes now said that he remembered those words and fully planned to act upon them, but his hands trembled in hers and there was a guarded look on his countenance that told her he was braced for rejection. The realization that he felt she might reject him expelled the fear, made her desire above all else to let this man, her husband, know that she wanted him, would never willingly send him away from her, to show him with words and actions how much she loved him.

Her husband.

She was married!

"Are you happy?" he inquired, his keen eyes penetrating her thoughts.

"Unbelievably," she replied, a small, true, secret smile gracing her lips.

"Unbelievably," he repeated with a frown before suddenly pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. "I hardly believe it myself."

It always sent a thrill through her when he kissed her, but that gentle intimacy calmed the last of her nerves and warm pleasure rippled through her. She was aware of him in every inch of her skin, the masculine scent of him, the warmth radiating from him, the taste of his lips, she could even feel his eyes upon her.

Her own eyes had darkened as these thoughts manifested and he leaned back a little to better observe her. "I haven't learned this expression yet, Margaret. I hardly know what to make of it."

She didn't reply with words; only gave him a shy, womanly smile as she decided to act upon a secret fantasy that she'd entertained since the evening under the tree when he proposed. Her small hands came up to his throat and began to work at the knot on his cravat. That day, it seemed so long ago now, she had wondered how he could stand the summer heat with that hot fabric around his neck and had longed to remove it. Now, he watched her face curiously, so intent she was at her task and he could not help but smile at the triumphant light in her eyes when, at length, she freed the material from his person. He expected her to look up at the completion of her endeavor but the smile of victory that turned the corners of her mouth quickly faded back into that strange new expression that he was making every effort to understand for it created a pleasant tightness in his chest and warmed his blood.

For Margaret, she stared in fascination at the masculine lines of toned muscle peaking out of the open front of his shirt. Her hand came back up, caressed his jawline, running the backs of her fingers from his ear down the side of his throat, pulling the fabric back slightly to slide gently across his collarbone. She darted a nervous glance at his face to find him staring intently at her with what could only be described as longing. A tiny cry escaped her, quickly silenced when he pulled her roughly against him and claimed her lips with gentle but passionate violence which she welcomed without reservation as her hands thrust into his hair, glided down the back of his neck, finding his shoulders where her nails bit into flesh through the linen shirt making him gasp in unanticipated pleasure.

She drew back at that, misinterpreting the reaction, apologizing: "Oh! I'm so sorry!" -frantically attempting to straighten his collar, her cheeks stained bright pink and unable to meet his eyes.

"Margaret!" he growled, quickly grasping her busy, trembling hands and bringing them back up to his chest before grasping her waist tightly to prevent her escape. "Why did you stop?" He looked angry and slightly desperate and it was terribly obvious that he was fighting a raging internal struggle. The emotions raced across his face quicker than Margaret could read them and she began to tremble violently in his hard embrace. His eyes widened in alarm at this and he relaxed his hold on her, lightly running his hands over her arms, across her back. "Please don't be frightened. For a moment, I felt like a man possessed but I am quite recovered now!"

"I'm not frightened," she said in a low voice. "I thought I had injured you. I don't know what came over me."

His gaze was intent as he searched her flushed visage, and seeing the truth of her words that rare wicked smile graced his lips as he laughed, "I wouldn't mind making it come over you again. To have your love made me the happiest of men, but to discover that you also desire me so passionately? I could fly."

Her heart stuttered in her chest as he rose, lifting her in his arms. She was astounded at his strength, moved to tears at the hungry need in his eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling of his lips moving possessively against hers as he carried her to his bedroom and kicked the door closed. In the night she learned the feel of her Darkshire man, felt the intensity of his passionate nature focused solely on her, for her. She gave him all that she was and took all that he had to give and when she felt he had taken all, found more within herself to offer, was offered more in return.

The morning light slipped through his bedroom window, a soft beam of light reflecting off the new gold ring on John's left hand that rested gently on his wife's stomach. She was curled in the protective circle of his arms, head resting on his chest, untamed curls tickling his nose, sleeping soundly. Sleep never found him, but he was content. It was enough to hold her, watch her as she slept, wonder what she dreamed. He would have the rest of his life to wake up to the feel of her beside him, always beside him, where she belonged. For now, they had a train to catch and he had a mission to accomplish as he turned his face to hers and captured her lips. It was time for her to wake up.


	5. Another Day, Another Train

**Greetings readers! I know this is a short addition compared to the length of my previous chapters, but I wanted to get something up so you would not lose faith that this story would continue. I cannot apologize for the delay. My dear mother passed away a few weeks ago and I had neither the time or heart to write, but it's getting easier and inspiration is slowly returning. This chapter is dedicated to her. I love you, Mom!**

She has a world of ready wealth,  
Our minds and hearts to bless–  
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,  
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.

-William Wordsworth

"Honestly John, this isn't necessary," Margaret smiled wearily as they boarded the train. In all her life, she had never awoken in a more pleasant manner but after the events of the day before, she would have preferred he waited a few more hours. She still did not understand why they were leaving for France so soon. Surely he was even more exhausted than she was, having made the journey from Milton to London and back again the day before.

"I assure you it is," he returned her smile.

This had something to do with the message he received as they returned to Harley Street after the wedding. An errand boy met them at the door, red faced from running, clutching a folded piece of paper and gasping Mr. Thornton's name. Her husband fished a coin from his vest pocket and took the note, scanning it's contents with a grave expression that quickly gave way to a broad, boyish smile. He raised his eyes to hers and inquired, "Would a honeymoon to France suit you, Margaret?"

"To be sure..." she began.

"Excellent," he grinned. "Then we shall leave in the morning!"

That was all he said and she couldn't get anything more from him aside from a curt request to have Dixon prepare a trunk for the journey separate from her items being removed to the house in Marlborough Mills. It would have been easier to simply travel straight from London, but her husband was not prepared for a long journey and had to return home to leave instructions at the factory and pack his own belongings.

"Surely it could have waited..."

"Margaret," he took both of her hands between his own, "would you be angry if I told you that this is partly business."

"I knew it!" she cried smugly, pulling her hands away to cross her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow in expectation of full confidence.

"A few weeks ago, shortly after I returned from London, I received a letter from Mr. Colthurst with a request to meet a friend of his in Calais."

"Colthurst! The man from Edith's party?"

"The very same," he said, pleased that she remembered, that she was so unlike the ladies who would have forgotten such a guest in their bored indifference, that her eyes were shining with avid interest in all he had to relay. "This friend is interested in making an investment in Marlborough Mills and to discuss other matters of trade, but he's foreign and unable to easily make a trip to Milton. At this stage in rebuilding the factory's reputation, I need every potential ally thrown my way and Colthurst is a powerful one. I cannot afford to offend him... or his friends."

Margaret nodded, her face the picture of understanding.

"I thought you might be angry," he admitted, coloring faintly as he began to nervously twist the ring on his finger. "Less than an hour into our marriage and I was already making compromises in our relationship for the potential good of the mill, but it won't always be like this Margaret!"

"It's my business, too," she reminded him gently. "My investment is not only in the man who runs it. That's why this trip surprised me. I thought you would need more time to secure things in Milton before we could even discuss gallivanting off on a honeymoon!"

Instead of reassuring him, his color only increased and he looked away out the window as the train lurched forward. "I've been expecting the reply from Colthurst any day now. It's why I was anxious to marry you so abruptly. The idea of going to France without you was driving me to distraction, you were already so far away from me, but perhaps it would have been more practical. I wasn't expecting the meeting for another week or so, but a representative of the company is in France at this moment and the journey cannot be delayed."

"Then we shall go to France," she reached forward, placing her hand tenderly on his cheek and turning his face from the window. "I'm not disappointed. I was confused, that's all. The trip will be good for us! You shall meet with this friend of Colthurst's and once that is done, I shall enjoy the time learning this new John Thornton before me!"

"I'm hardly a new man, Margaret," he scoffed, but his eyes glowed with amusement.

A long ago conversation was playing in her mind, causing the corner of mouth to turn up in fond remembrance. "Nicolas once told me that you 'fairly bamboozled' him. He said that you were like two chaps bound up in one body, one was master all over and the other hadn't an ounce of master's flesh. If he knew you as well as I do, he'd see more than two."

"Am I truly that complicated?" he pondered, looking shy and uncomfortable. "You make it sound as if I wear different personalities like a mask."

"I imagine it's more like wearing different clothes. Do you not feel like a different man when you're dressed for a day of work verses dressed for a dinner party? I know that I do." His eyebrows raised in mock astonishment and she realized her blunder, grinning ruefully as she added, "Feel like a different woman, I mean. I feel more confident in certain attire while more practical and down to earth in others. My state of dress can define how I approach people or how people might feel they can approach me. I dress according to my responsibilities, which vexes Dixon to no end when she's laid out something that doesn't quite fit my plans for the day."

"And how many suits of personality do I own, Margaret?" he questioned softly, riveted by her simile, trying to place each of her moods since he had known her with the dress she had worn, pleased that he now had clues to which Margaret he would be encountering on a daily basis, understanding that they were all his Margaret, just different aspects of the whole. How many aspects did she see in him?

"Well," she replied, raising a hand and ticking off the count on her fingers, "I've met John the master and John the diligent student, there's also John the devoted friend, John the loving son and brother, and now you're John the husband. Someday, you will be John the father," she smiled that strange, secretive, womanly smile. "I look forward to meeting that man someday, but it's John the husband that intrigues me just now."

That smile disarmed him, filled him with a warmth that had nothing to do with a summer morning. The corner of his mouth turned up as he leaned forward, gently running the backs of his fingers down her cheek until his thumb rested lightly against the seductive curl of her lips. "I might be equally intrigued by the attire of Margaret the wife. I thought once that I understood Margaret completely, but that was only Margaret the daughter and Margaret the friend. Margaret the sister turned all of my presumptions on end. Now, I find myself faced with her wearing secret smiles and soulful glances that I hardly know what to make of except that they make my blood race."

"As yours do mine," she whispered breathlessly, covering his hand with her own, turning her face to press a kiss into his palm. "I would only ask that, from now on, you discuss these matters of business where they might concern me. I've no wish to help you manage Marlborough Mills, but honestly... there was no need for you to keep this meeting a secret. You left me in a fair state of confusion for several hours! Any longer and I would have been very angry indeed."

"Forgive me?" his eyes were gentle and pleading. "I only have the feminine behaviors of my mother and sister to go by. Fan would have been righteously indignant to learn she was not the soul consideration behind such a journey, but Mother said that you would understand as she did. I should have listened to her, but I was gripped by a fear that your reaction would be somewhere between the two."

"I don't understand," confusion wrinkled her brow. "You should know by now that I'm a practical woman, John."

"Given to make immense sacrifices of your own wishes for what you perceive to be the greater good of those you care about," he said in a low voice. "I've watched you conceal your true feelings to spare your mother, father, and brother. I know how completely you devote yourself to those who have a claim on you - who are claimed by you. I do not wish for you to spare me your feelings, and that was my greatest fear; that you would patiently accept the situation while quietly resenting me for it. You did it last night, facing me with quiet bravery, trying to hide how nervous you felt."

They both smiled and blushed at the memory of the night before, but he rallied and continued, "I will share with you all of the John Thornton you see before you, Margaret. I just need you to be honest and tell me if I neglect or take you for granted. I understand how completely you have attached yourself to me, how dependent you will be on my companionship, but I need you to understand that you are sharing me with the factory and with my family. You will not be my sole consideration as I am to be yours."

A short, harsh laugh burst from her, startling him. He was surprised by the fierce emotion that blazed forth from her expressive eyes as she sat back in her seat once more, shrugging off his hand.

"Sole consideration, to be sure," she said haughtily, her chin raising in regal defiance. "You believe that I will sit about your house waiting with meek patience until you return home from work each evening; that I will simply spend my days preparing for the few precious hours when I can share a meal with you and hear about your day."

"No!" he cried. "Please don't twist my words, love. You are not some possession that I plan to keep locked up."

"But you don't expect me to attach myself to your family, that they might be as much a consideration to me as they are to you? You believe that I will come to resent the devotion to your profession that I currently love and admire?"

Her expression dared him to refute her. He could not. That was exactly what he had thought and she could read it in his shame filled eyes. That shame was like a pin to her inflated indignation, and she was surprised there wasn't an audible pop as it burst within her. He sat across from her, arms crossed over his chest, and the only description for his countenance was proud dejection and her heart swelled with love. There was still so much to learn about each other and she needed to be more patient with these misunderstandings, needed to accept that there would probably be many more. He read the mischief in her eyes a split second before she landed in his lap, kissing him soundly.

"What's this?" he gasped in surprised pleasure, arms wrapping around her tightly.

"This is me forgiving you when you're wrong," she laughed, nestling against his chest.


	6. A Day of Surprises

**A/N: You have my heartfelt apology that it's taken so long to get another chapter up, dear readers. I'm sure most of you know that I've been working on another story lately, but I promise that I haven't forgotten about this one. I work on each depending on my mood, which I confess has been a bit more angst driven lately than this story allows. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'll endeavor to not make you wait so long for the next one.**

_The sea was sapphire coloured, and the sky_  
_Burned like a heated opal through the air;_  
_We hoisted sail; the wind was blowing fair_  
_For the blue lands that to the eastward lie._

_Oscar Wilde_

Margaret handled the voyage far better than her husband, to his intense mortification. He had praised her after a few hours on the ship when she had displayed no sign of seasickness, so when a sudden gale had churned the ocean, tossing the ship like a piece of cotton fluff in a carding room and he had turned an alarming shade of green, racing for the side of the deck, she had to exercise great restraint to refrain from teasing him. As it was, he glared darkly at her every time his miserable heaving ceased and he could turn his head a fraction to see her standing firmly at the stern, blissfully facing the storm as the wind ripped through her hair, tugging it from it's pins.

The idea vaguely crossed his mind that she looked like some wild, untamed goddess from Greek poetry and he would have admired her regal beauty if he wasn't so appalled by his own weak constitution. At least she didn't laugh at him, though he was well aware that she wanted to. She was completely unaware of how much her eyes gave away, the way they crinkled at the edges and sparkled with suppressed mirth even as the tightness of her lips spoke of grave concern. Had her father been capable of reading her eyes? No, of course not. As astute and intelligent as Mr. Hale was, he only saw what he wished to see. Any assumption of feeling that Margaret chose to express would be taken at face value, with no thought to any deeper sentiment. For once, and what he hoped would be the only time, he was grateful for her attempt to spare his feelings. The situation was horrid enough without her openly mocking him, but he would think twice about his right to praise her when he had yet to be tested.

Calais was a bit of a shock to them both for neither had ever left England. The summers that took Edith and Mrs. Shaw abroad in Margaret's youth had brought her back to Helstone and Mr. Thornton had been taken out of school long before any ideas of a grand tour of the continent could be entertained. The only port he had ever been to was Liverpool, so at least he was better prepared for the roughness of the merchant sailors and the unsavory women that lingered near the docks than his young wife, but it almost seemed as though they had stepped off the ship into a strange dream, so different it was from England.

"How does poor Frederick manage with such people?" she wondered in astonishment, overwhelmed with distaste and pity in turns. It greatly reminded her of how she felt about Milton when she had first arrived there, which startled her and set her resolve to experiencing this strange place with an open mind.

"He is a Hale," Mr. Thornton said, looking at her sharply as though guessing her thoughts but to ignore them as he answered her question.

She was grateful and exclaimed with all the lightness the situation called for, "You give my family too much credit, sir!"

"Not at all," he laughed, patting the hand resting in the crook of his arm. "If poor Frederick's sister could manage an old bulldog of a mill owner as well as a certain impudent union leader, I believe the brother might be made of the same material."

"How is Nicolas?" she asked, pouncing on the new subject and looking up at him earnestly. "If I have any regret about coming to France on such short notice, it's that I did not get to look in on him and Mary before we left. How are the children?"

"Remarkably well, actually," he rubbed his hand across the back of neck in the nervous manner that Margaret recognized all too well. "In fact, he and Mary have taken over the lease at the Crampton house. I've given Nicolas a new position, though we're still working out what to call it. He's sort of a liaison between me and the workers and his ability to quickly and efficiently train new hands on the machines makes him invaluable. I pay him accordingly and with Mary working in the new dining hall and the eldest child, Tom, having taken a job as delivery boy for the post office, they can well afford it. They needed a larger home."

Tears welled in her eyes as she choked on the words, "I'm glad. Oh, I am glad."

A short note awaited them upon reaching the hotel, from Mr. Colthurst, stating that he left instructions for the man they were to meet to be in the dining room each evening at five o'clock until Mr. Thornton could join him. Looking at his pocket watch, he was startled to see that it was nearly that time.

"Margaret," he said, running a hand over his face and glancing at her with a rather sheepish expression, "do I look alright?"

She knew it was useless to suggest putting the meeting off until tomorrow. Her husband would wish to get this over with. Laughing she reached up to straighten his cravat. "You're still a little green, but I doubt he'll notice in the lamp light. Now put on your master's face and go to work!"

It was difficult to feel nervous when she was radiating such confidence in his abilities, but not impossible. He had never met a business associate outside of his own territory before. They either came to him in Milton or he corresponded by post. Feeling strange and out of his depth, he took her hand and entreated, "Come with me?"

"Of course," she smiled tenderly.

He never released her hand as they made their way downstairs and she occasionally winced when his grip would suddenly tighten. "How are we to recognize this gentleman? Has Mr. Colthurst given you a name?"

Mr. Thornton shook his head, eyes narrowed as they scanned the busy room. He pulled a worn letter from his waistcoat pocket and passed it to her and she quickly read the brief missive which appeared to have been hastily written.

_Greetings, Thornton!_

_I trust this letter finds you well. I apologize for the abruptness of this request but I've just learned that my friend Samuel has a representative in Calais at this very moment who is prepared to extend his business there if you wish to meet him. He is staying at the hotel Meurice. Write to me immediately if you wish to make the trip and I will forward instructions to you both._

_-Colthurst_

A movement at the far corner of the room caught her attention and she turned her face from the paper to see an elegant, well dressed gentleman rise from the table and start toward them. She thought him rather handsome in the dim lighting, if not a bit rugged in appearance for he had a well trimmed beard and wore his jet black hair a bit long for the current fashion, just brushing the collar of his shirt. A genial smile turned the corners of his mustache in a pleasant way and though he had yet to reach them, Margaret liked him immediately.

"Mr. Thornton, I trust," the man said, hand already extended in greeting though he was staring at Margaret with a strange light in his dark eyes.

Mr. Thornton missed taking his hand, deeply disturbed by the way the gentleman was looking at his wife, the way his wife was staring at the gentleman with her mouth unattractively hanging open. The man did not even seem to notice that the pleasantry was ignored as he turned fully to the woman at his side.

"Well Margaret," he laughed. "Don't you know me?"

Her eyes were wider than Mr. Thornton had ever seen them, as though spellbound, and he glowered darkly at this handsome stranger.

"It cannot be..." came the small gasp, as she found her voice. Without any warning, she threw herself into the stranger's arms, sobbing hysterically into his shoulder. It was a moment before Mr. Thornton could make out what she was saying, torn between fierce jealousy, concern and hurt at being completely forgotten by the two people before him. The way they held each other was reminiscent of that night at Outwood station.

"Frederick!" she cried, laughing, gasping for breath, stepping back to see him better. They had their hands placed on each other's shoulders as they took one another's measure. "I didn't recognize you with the beard! Oh, Frederick, how can this be? I never thought to see you again!"

"It appears my disguise is flawless if my own sister didn't recognize me," he grinned widely. "It was Dolores's idea."

Mr. Thornton cleared his throat and she started guiltily as she turned to face her husband. He merely raised an eyebrow at her.

She stared at her feet. "Forgive me, John. I did not mean to make a scene, it's just... I'd like you to meet my brother!"

His wife was glowing with pride as she pulled Frederick closer, linked her arm through his, and faced her husband beside the man who had cause him so many restless months of jealous misery. Knowing him to be her brother did not ease that particular ache, though he knew it was ridiculous. The easy, devoted adoration these two had for each other made him unsure of his place, unsure if he should assume the attire of master or possessive husband; made him feel like he was an unwelcome addition to their reunion though he was the one supposed to meet with this man.

Or was he?

Had Frederick just been there by a strange coincidence, recognizing Margaret, and by extension him?

"I'm surprised to see you as well," Frederick smiled, lightly kissing her cheek before finally turning his attention back to their companion, adding in a tone of grave suspicion, "especially with Mr. Thornton."

"Don't sound so disapproving, Fred! Mr. Thornton is my husband," she announced, grasping her husband's arm and pulling him closer to slip her arm around his waist.

They had begun to gain attention from the other patrons and most of the staff which stared openly at the small group, at the beautiful raven haired lady radiating love and happiness at the two gentlemen on each pale arm, glowering suspiciously at each other.

Frederick was also stabbed with a strange note of jealousy at this news. It was ridiculous, he knew. Of course, she must marry some day. He had! That did not mean he was pleased with the idea of being displaced in her affections, though Dolores had never displaced her. He had always felt guilty, after the mutiny, that he had been unable to care for her, especially after the deaths of their parents. Guilty, too, that he could never properly thank those who had shown her kindness, but now that he had that chance, he found that gratitude was the last thing he wanted express. Indeed, he wanted to punch the manufacturer in his dark, brooding face for debauching his little sister!

Margaret's smile faded as she noticed their mutual expressions of displeasure and huffed a sigh, rolling her eyes. "Do we need to step outside so the two of you can duke it out? I'm sure Fred would enjoy the chance to defend my honor while my husband might relish the opportunity to pay my brother back for the Outwood station incident."

Two pairs of eyes, one steel gray, the other dark, like her mother's, snapped to her face in shocked disbelief. Her husband recovered first, turning away to hide the sudden burn creeping up his neck and into his face, but her brother's narrowed in confusion.

"How about we take our little party back to my table?" Frederick said slowly. "We'll order a bottle of wine and you can explain that cryptic comment before Mr. Thornton and I discuss the business which brought us here this evening."

The tale of Leonard's death and the subsequent events of the following months was relayed quickly to astonished ears and Frederick admonished his sister several times for hiding the news from him.

"Honestly, Margaret," he cried, reaching across the table to take her hand. "If you had only written and told me, I would have insisted you impart the truth to Mr. Thornton at once! I simply cannot believe that you compromised your integrity for my sake? I'm not worth it!"

"Don't say that," Margaret began, but was cut short by her husband, who spoke at the same time.

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Mr. Hale!"

"It's Dickenson," Frederick said sharply, glancing nervously around the room and taking a deep breath when he confirmed that their conversation had gone unnoticed. He went on to explain, "I am still wanted in England, you see, and have been forced to abandon my family name."

"My apologies," Mr. Thornton sighed. "Margaret and I have only recently wed and were forced to spend much of betrothal apart. While she informed me of your situation, there has been little time to discuss the finer points."

Frederick nodded his understanding. "Well, there will be plenty of time to get you caught up, but tell me, how was the trip over? I've been told the channel was a bit rough today."

A giggle escaped Margaret's restraint but she sobered quickly at her husband's withering glare, though she did not apologize.

"Ah," Frederick said, not missing the exchange and suddenly realizing that his sister's husband was slightly white around his stern mouth. "I wouldn't think too much on it if I were you, Mr. Thornton. It's a common side effect of sea travel. Why! I couldn't seem to keep down a drop of water my first two weeks on a vessel."

"Really?" Mr. Thornton gasped in astonishment. "Margaret seemed to have no trouble, standing on that pitching deck like she had been born there and had no place on land! I thought it might be a family trait."

"I believe Margaret has merely grown accustomed to standing fast in turbulent storms, Mr. Thornton," Frederick replied, squeezing the hand still resting between his and giving his sister a sad smile.

"Please," Mr. Thornton looked at his wife then at her brother, "call me John. You are, after all, my brother-in-law."

"Good Lord, I hadn't even thought of that!" Frederick laughed, eyes brightening in honest delight. "Here I've been morosely contemplating losing a sister and never even stopped to consider that I was gaining a brother! You must call me Fred!"

"And you both must call me famished," Margaret interjected, reaching for the list of dishes offered by the kitchen, amused by the shift in manly sentiment surrounding her. "Might we continue this over more than just a bottle of wine?"

Mr. Thornton suddenly seemed uncomfortable, shifting in his seat as his hand suddenly rested on her knee, pressing his fingers into the soft flesh tightly. She glanced a question at him only to notice him frowning at the menu.

"I can read Latin," he murmured, leaning into her ear and flushing slightly. "It was the first thing your father refreshed me on, but we never managed other languages."

The poor brother realized immediately that he had been momentarily forgotten and reached for his own menu to politely divert himself from scrutinizing the developing intimacy in front of him. He knew, from personal experience with his own wife, how quickly people and surroundings could fade away in the first flush of married life. Indeed, it had been over a year since he married and still found himself falling into Dolores's soft, dark eyes at inopportune moments. There had been a concern, from the moment he became aware that Margaret had married the man who owned such an impressive scowl, that she might not be loved like she deserved. Frederick feared that her tender heart and proud spirit might be stifled to death by her husband's imposing and formidable temperament, but a quick glance at the man in question revealed there was no cause to worry. Mr. Thornton, wearing a shy smile, was staring at Margaret as though she were land after many months at sea and speaking to her in a tone of quiet deference that put to Frederick's mind a knight addressing his beloved queen. He knew, at that moment, that all his sister had to do was ask, and Mr. Thornton would drop the world on it's head to heed her call.

"Have you learned to like me yet, dear husband?" Margaret inexplicably replied in low tones, though Frederick could still make out her words and the unmistakable smirk curling the edge of her mouth as she glanced at her husband from the corner of her eye. This confused Frederick, for how could Mr. Thornton have married her if he did not like her, especially when everything in the man's expression suddenly melted into one of the deepest devotion and love.

Until the tender smile shifted to an alarmingly predatory and wicked grin, which caused Frederick to turn his inquisitive eyes hastily back toward his menu.

"I'm still not entirely certain," came the even more confusing reply. "We've hardly had time for those lessons."

"Well, we'll simply have to remember to add French to them," she turned her head and beamed at Mr. Thornton, plucking his hand from her knee and raising it to her lips.

Behind his menu, Frederick smiled. If Margaret trusted this man with her heart, and if he was open enough with his wife to offer her his strengths and take comfort in hers, admitting his weaknesses, if not gracefully then honestly, he just might be the type of person Barbour and Company was looking for.


End file.
